Broken Dreams
by Animako
Summary: Jechtcentric. I’m proud of him, not that that means anything anymore.


Jecht-centric. _I'm proud of him, not that that means anything anymore_.

--

I'm proud of him, not that that means anything anymore. I didn't know to be proud before, not until I met Braska or Auron, (that honourable bastard - I'll never be able to thank him but he did it, achieved what I couldn't ever do, brought my kid back to me, gave us a chance to make up, gave _me_ a chance). So you see: I dunno how to explain, but I haven't got a right to be proud when it was Auron who did it. It's difficult. The important thing is, he can kill me and I'll die knowing that at least my son isn't the failure I am. See: I'm proud of that. But-

-But I'm a failure.

It's always that. I flew high in my time, yeah, but it was flying in the wrong direction. It was flying too fast and if you fly high you've only got further to fall. Longer to scream on the way down, right? If you end up out of anyone's control, it's no-one's fault but your own when you've been the one in charge. You make your own success and they love you for it, but right at the end when the golden age is over it turns sour: it's your fault and you have only yourself to blame. Shouting doesn't help, however angry or wounded you are: it's no-one else's fault, it's yours and yours alone.

And you pay for it, in the end.

See, being apart from the rest of this (alien) world gave me time to think. Ten year's time; long enough to catch up on all that introspection and self-pity I missed when the lazy bastard of a Blitzer I used to be.

Yeah, no need to stare. I can admit it now: I was a jerk. That's kinda the least of my problems now, okay?

Still, heh, I can't believe I couldn't see it before. It's a trick of this place that it makes you think. And it makes you stop bullshitting yourself with excuses. S'kinda a good thing, even though that old bastard Yu Yevon plain isn't. He mucks around with what's real here, you know. Twists it. The world's all twisted and whether that's only what they want you to think isn't—

Isn't the question anymore. It shows you stuff. Not just memories, even, stuff that comes from someone's else's mind, whether it's from the old fayths' minds or the dead souls' or the fiends', even, I dunno. But it's messed up: you spend dark scary morbid nights in the old dead city it's too quiet. I think I even end up talking to myself, which is one of the things I never thought'd happen. No matter how much I used to drink, I did have_ some_ standards. But it's one thing to talk about going crazy in back in a world where you've got a home and a life to live. Here, you walk through old ruins all by yourself and all the fiends cower (cause, of course, they can see what it is I am. They see better than me, cause I still don't know shit about this all: what am I, the master or the slave here? It's a dead city we're all living in, bringing death to everything it touches, and there wasn't exactly a job definition in the contract I signed-) but, dreams are real here, that's what I was getting at. _You're_ a dream, whispers in the night and the wise, dark fayth singing lies to the unwitting world you're no longer a part of.

And all that crap. Lost in thought again, Jecht. You're going mad.

So where was I? Tidus is last proof I failed. Which is kinda ironic, then, seeing as he's succeeding.

He's got the girl. He has only got to kill the bad guy. (Finally. I deserve death, after all of- no, I don't. I fear it and hate it and hate being so damn messed up, remember seeing those men you'd see on the streets back in the_ real_ Zanarkand, lost everything but- but who wouldn't welcome death? when you see it, cause it, everyday and it's all. Your. Fault.)

Watching him, seeing the way he hates you, misses you but it's too late now. Too late for us.

Is this (Spira. Sin. Yu Yevon and Braska too?), all a delusion? Is there a worried family visiting you in an asylum, Jecht? No, sorry, he can't be saved. To far gone, sorry. Sorry. Can't be saved.

Talking to myself. It's crazy.

Tidus, coming. I'm crazy.

His girl, Yuna, dancing. She's...

She's melancholy. No-one wants to do this. So am I, for fuck's sake, and I've been waiting ten years! It's vital and all that, it's necessary but why can't we fast-forward? Let get to the but skip all the acting it out, we're helpless: it has to be done. I'm helpless.

The Summoner's sleeves flying as she swirls and the Pyreflies rise with an eldritch beauty.

And they're coming for me.

_She looks so much like Braska._

The plan's been in place ten years, We can't falter. We have no choice.

_Jecht, did we ever?_

Braska, looking up at me, body wrecked but mind still all alive and still confident, and with all his clarity and those eyes cutting through you to see your mind, to see how you really feel and why. He's the only guy that I've ever trusted that much. He's- relying on me, so how the hell am I meant to tell him something's wrong, 'cause goddam it he's dying, and his whole life is this, is here: this is the climax and the last chapter of the book - and I wanted him to die happy because no-one else will, after all.

-But he knows, sees, somehow understands what's happening. I don't all I know is it hurts and somehow I'm back in that place I saw before, the dark against my eyes and ice/fire/water/thunder I scream and I'm that- _the Aeon_ again. Just for a few seconds he looked up at me and tears in his eyes glinted and Auron yelling and slashed the air in the background (because what else can he do? It's over now.)

So like I said, I'm more than a little mad. That was the last time I saw grass or light or people who weren't hallucinations.

But now I get to see Auron again. I need to thank him - he's the reason this is all happening – and I need to tell Tidus I love him, he can hate, me, he's entitled to, he's got years worth of reasons, after all.

But-

-They're here.

And the words stick in my throat.

I want to say what's important, but it's hard. I'm doing what I always end up doing: putting on that persona, casual superstar again. After ten years, and... Still the same own Jecht. Couldn't talk about my feelings to save my life, not that I'd want to.

Fuck.

Ask anyone, Jecht's a self-confidant, cocky, full of himself. But I can't say what matters, no matter if I plan the conversation in my head or write myself lines or _anything_.

Too proud, too stubborn. Braska saw through it, but Braska's dead. Auron saw through it, but he's staring and saying nothing: still impassive, he's gotten older and now he looks like an old dark king in his ruined, proud glory and no goddam it this is your story, this is _my_ moment but whatever you say comes out wrong.

And the conversation looks like it's hurting Tidus as much as it hurts me, only he doesn't try to hide it. I don't want to hide it. Give up on words, do what must be done. Somehow it's easier now, and fighting seems like running, cowardice because the battle of words thing always hurts more.

I'm a coward.

_"Well then, let's go!"_

I'm a coward, but you'll never know.

Falling… falling… rage and pain, ice/fire/water/thunder, mind all gone. It always comes back, blindness, fighting.

Aeons are the flip side of the Fayth, see: Fayth are in your mind more than anything. They're the ones that live off the past and in magic and outside the real world. Aeons are the warriors, they're designed for it. An aeon is a beast made to destroy what its master tells it. Nothing more.

I hope Tidus understands that. That's why it was good that he hated me. It means he'll do what he has to.

Let go, Jecht.

It's a good thing I pissed him off, maybe. It's a good thing I couldn't say sorry, or he'd find it hard to fight. See: no regrets. We're doing the right thing here.

I hope Tidus- No, I don't. In the end, I just hope Tidus _believes _that.


End file.
